Trials and Tintinnabulations
by Negaduck
Summary: When Fraggle Rock is threatened by an epidemic, rescue comes from an unlikely hero.
1. Pass it On

**Trials and Tintinnabulations**  
by Kim McFarland

* * *

When I give a gift to you,  
I know you're gonna give it too.  
That's why givin's what we do,  
As we pass it on.  
-_Pass it On_

* * *

**Part 1: Pass it On**

It was a long Monday evening at the Muppet Theater. Over the weekend they had performed their three stage shows, and on Mondays they filmed the backstage business that would be edited into the broadcast version. It was a chance for them to have fun without the pressure of the stage.

Janken Fraggle, the usual camera operator, watched as a fellow student played back the "dailies" for the rest of the cast. The Muppets did not notice any difference in the quality of the camera work, which was good. Janken did, but he had a sharper eye for it. His replacement would be fine for the few weeks Janken would be away.

Afterward, most of the Muppets rode in the Electric Mayhem's bus back to the boarding house. Scooter and Janken went back to Janken's apartment. Janken filled a teapot with water and set it on his hot plate.

"I'm gonna miss you," Scooter said.

Janken replied, "I'll miss you too, tenderfoot."

Janken was going to return to Fraggle Rock tonight. The winter solstice was days away, and he would not miss the Festival of the Bells. After so much time in Outer Space—the Fraggle term for the world outside their caves—he was eager to go home and see his friends and family. He wished he could bring Scooter along, but, lacking fur, he would likely freeze down there.

Janken poured hot water into an earthenware cup, stirred in some instant coffee, and handed it to Scooter. Then he flipped through his collection of tea packets. Some of them had medicinal properties. He chose one and mixed it with another cup of hot water. When he drank it he made a face. Scooter said, "Something wrong?"

"No. I've got a headache. This drooptree bark tea is good for headaches, but I've tasted better stuff."

"Oh."

They sipped their drinks quietly. Then Janken opened his backpack. It was already packed, but he had had second thoughts. He took out some gloves, a scarf, and other warm clothes and set them aside, along with the ceramic ocarina they were wrapped around. Underneath was a metal bell as long as his forearm. He said to Scooter, "This is a Fraggle bell. We ring them during the Festival of the Bells. I'd like you to have it."

Surprised, Scooter accepted it. "Thanks. I wish I had something for you..."

Janken smiled. "Remember what I told you? Fraggles give things because we want to, not because we expect something in return. If you want to do something for me, ring it on the solstice and think of me."

"I will," Scooter promised.

Janken repacked his clothing and ocarina. He finished his tea, then rinsed out the cup. "It's a good thing that tea's effective. It wouldn't be worth it otherwise."

Scooter nodded quietly. "Yeah."

Janken started to put on his backpack, then lowered it to the ground again. "I hate long goodbyes."

Scooter knew the next line. "Gooooodbyyyyye."

"Yeah." The two shared a hug and a kiss. Then Janken said, "I gotta go. I can't be too late. I'll be back before you know it."

"Yeah, sure," Scooter said.

Janken put on the backpack. The two left the apartment, Janken leading a child-sized bicycle. After another hug, Janken mounted it and said, "Remember to ring the bell!"

"Sure thing!"

Scooter watched as Janken pedaled off into the evening.

* * *

The wind was cold on Janken's bare face, hands, and legs. His fur and jacket warmed his body, though, and Fraggles were naturally resistant to cold. It took more than a mild chill like this to bother him—and he knew that he would face real cold soon enough. He hoped he hadn't gotten spoiled during his time on the surface.

He pulled up to an office building and got off his bicycle. He still had a headache, he realized, and if anything it had worsened. He shrugged it off to missing Scooter already. He walked the bike up the ramp and pressed a button beside the door. After a moment the lock clicked, and he entered.

A female Monster met him inside. He said, "Hi, Lana. Thanks for letting me in."

"That's all right," she told him as they walked down a hall to a back room. "I had some paperwork to catch up on anyway. How've you been?"

"I'm doing really well. I like my job. I'm looking forward to going full-time after I graduate."

"Let us know when you do. I want to come to the commencement."

"Sure thing!"

She unlocked a storage room. It was full of boxes and furniture and things. She said, "Your bike won't fit through, but we can keep it here until you come back."

"Thanks," he said. "Merry Christmas!"

"Thanks. Happy Festival of the Bells."

Janken walked around one set of boxes. The bottom one was a wooden crate, and swung open on one side. The other was open to the wall, covering a hole.

* * *

As Janken ran down the dimly-lit tunnel the rock walls changed from rough, gray, characterless granite to smooth, friendly limestone. It became noticeably chillier as he descended. When the cold rock began to sting his feet he stopped and opened his pack. He put on a hat, a scarf, a pair of knit, leather-soled boots, and a pair of gloves. Then he shouldered his pack and continued.

Eventually the light brightened, and he emerged into a room whose walls were streaked with white flowstone, like wax from drippy candles. Inside were a warmly-dressed orange Fraggle and a gray-and-white Hairy Monster, also known as a dog, on whose back rode two small Fraggle girls. The dog barked enthusiastically and jumped forward. Janken quickly tossed his backpack to the side and let the dog knock him to the ground. It licked his face with messy affection. Janken laughed—as much as possible while keeping his mouth closed—and pushed at the dog's face. "All right, Sprocket, I'm glad to see you too! Let me up!"

The dog barked again and backed up, letting Janken get to his feet. The two little Fraggles on Sprocket's back were laughing. Somehow they had not fallen off, and were holding on even though the dog was wagging his tail so hard he threatened to shake them off. Janken put his backpack on again, ruffled the fur behind Sprocket's ears, and said, "I didn't expect to find _you_ waiting for me."

"He came with us," the smaller of the two children, a little brown-skinned girl named Poncle, informed him in a piping voice. The dog barked and nodded vigorously.

"Welcome back," said the orange-skinned adult. Gobo, one of Janken's uncles, or fathers, depending on how exact one wanted to be.

"Thanks. I don't think I've ever been this thoroughly welcomed in my life," Janken remarked, brushing gray dog hair off his purple fur.

"How're you getting along up there?" Gobo asked.

The little group began walking down a passage toward the main area of Fraggle Rock. Sage, the turquoise-skinned girl, slid off Sprocket's back and took Janken's hand. Not to be left out, Poncle also dismounted—Sprocket, knowing that she was too small to get down easily, crouched low to let her off—and claimed Janken's other hand. Bracketed by his younger sisters, he said, "Fine. It's going a lot smoother now. I've got a job with a bunch of people who... well, they're hard to describe. I really like 'em. They're like a big, noisy, kind of crazy family, and they've welcomed me in. I don't feel lonely anymore."

"Good," Gobo said, pleased. That was the part that had concerned him the most. Their family was known for its daring: Uncle Matt had been the first Fraggle to investigate Outer Space and Gobo had been the first to make friends with some of the inhabitants, and now Janken was carrying on the tradition by being the first Fraggle to live among them. The Fraggles had realized that the worlds were interconnected, and they needed to find their place within them. It was the next logical step—but, still, the idea of leaving Fraggle Rock long enough to understand the culture of the Silly Creatures was practically unthinkable. Except, obviously, for someone who had been raised on tales of the surface world.

Janken continued, "I'm busy pretty much all the time, between school and work. And I've found someone I really like. A surface dweller."

"Really?" Gobo asked, surprised.

"Yeah. I didn't expect it either, but... well, you'd like him if you met him. And he can dreamshare. I can't help wondering if he's part Fraggle."

"How can someone be _part_ Fraggle?" Gobo asked.

"I don't know, but if there's one thing I've learned up there, it's that there's _plenty_ I don't know yet."

Gobo nodded. "Yeah. It's hard to believe how big and complicated this world is."

"Yeah. Sometimes I wonder if we'll ever fit in. But I'm having fun trying!"

"That's the only way to do it," Gobo told him with a grin.

"Did you bring songs from Outer Space?" Poncle asked.

Janken looked down at her. "I brought lots of songs," he told her with a smile. "Want one?"

Both children chorused, "Yeah!"

Janken knelt and said, "Open my backpack and get my sweet potato."

Sage undid the fastens and took out a ceramic flute shaped like its namesake, with two rows of three holes, side by side, on the top. She handed it to Janken. He blew into the mouthpiece on top and covered the holes with fingers to play a short introduction. Then he handed the flute back to Sage, who continued the tune, and began singing,

"We come from the fire, living in the fire,  
Go back to the fire, turn the world around."

Poncle began clapping percussion. Gobo joined in with his gourd guitar. Janken continued singing about the people of the water and the mountain. As he did the others picked up on the pattern of the lyrics and joined in. Even Sprocket, prancing bouncily, arfed along with them.

* * *

By the time they reached the Great Hall, Sprocket had left the party to return to his home with Doc. He enjoyed playing with the Fraggles now that they were no longer scared of him, but he was hungry and Fraggles, being herbivores, did not serve food fit for a dog.

The Great Hall, its walls now frost-coated and spiky with icicles, was filled with Fraggles, all bundled up against the cold and playing vigorously. Some were skidding around on the frozen surface of the pond and batting at a skipping stone with flattened sticks. More than their clothes, it was this boundless energy that kept them warm and healthy.

A light orange Fraggle named Red noticed them, then jumped over the side of the pond and shouted, "Hey! You're back!"

"Did you think I'd stay away?" Janken replied as he hugged her.

"Fraggle Rock would stop moving without him," Gobo said.

"Would it really?" Poncle asked, wide-eyed.

"No," Janken told her with a smile. "They're teasing me."

"C'mon, grab a stick and join in!" Red said, beckoning.

"Thanks, but I'm kind of tired. You'd clobber me. Tomorrow I'll have a chance, eh?"

"Suit yourself," she said, and took a swat at the stone.

* * *

They made their way to Boober's room. The small, blue-green Fraggle was crushing dried leaves with a mortar and pestle, releasing a pungent smell. He was so engrossed in the task that he did not notice their entrance. Gobo said, "Look who I found."

Boober glanced up, then put down the pestle. "Welcome home."

Janken, taking off his backpack, said, "I've got something to show you."

Janken took some small boxes out of his backpack and set them on the table by the mortar and pestle. Boober, who had seen boxes like these before, quickly picked one marked "cinnamon" up and sniffed the contents. Janken often brought back spices that were not known to Fraggles. Boober would have days of quiet fun playing with the spices, discovering how to use them, and eventually would share them with the other Fraggles in the food he cooked.

He sniffed another—curry—then said to Janken, "Thank you!"

"You're welcome," Janken replied, pleased. He dug around in his pack some more, then took out several smooth stones about the size of cherry tomatoes. He selected a black one with snowflake-like white markings and gave it to Boober.

Boober turned the piece of snowflake obsidian in his hands. The two girls came over to look at it. "That's pretty," Poncle remarked.

Janken gave each of the others another pebble. Poncle got an agate smoothie with markings like folds of flaky pastry, and he gave Sage a flattened piece of petrified wood. He handed Gobo a tiger's eye pebble. Gobo turned it, watching the light glint off the crystals within the stone.

The girls chorused "Thanks!" and ran off to show their friends, and probably to give the pebbles away. Janken had more stones in his backpack. He had collected pretty, polished rocks of kinds that were never seen in the limestone caves of the Rock. By Silly Creature standards they were semiprecious at best; their real value lay in the pleasure they would bring as they were given from Fraggle to Fraggle.

Janken said, "I'm kind of tired. I think I'll turn in for the day." He closed his pack and raised it to one shoulder.

Boober asked with sudden concern, "Do you feel well? Any frizzing or itching of your fur?"

Janken chuckled. Boober was convinced that Outer Space was saturated with disease and pestilence. "I'm fine. Just tired. And I've got a little headache."

"Oh, headache. That's an easy one." Boober turned to a shelf full of jars.

"Actually, I had some drooptree bark tea before I came here. It didn't work, and too much gives me a stomach ache. I just need to rest."

"Okay." Boober came over and put his arms around Janken. "Welcome back," he said.

Janken hugged back. "Thanks."

* * *

Janken did not have a cave of his own in Fraggle Rock. For years he had been living on the surface, and when he came back he stayed with one or another member of his family. Gobo led him back to the room he still shared with Wembley. The green Fraggle was sitting quietly in his bed nook, tapping a gentle rhythm on a pair of bongo drums in his lap. When he saw Gobo and Janken he said, "Hey, you're back!"

"My front, too. Both of me," Janken answered. "How've you been?"

Wembley put the drums aside and bounced down to give Janken a warm hug. "Just great. The kids were all wound up about you coming back."

"Yeah, I saw them. And Sprocket," Janken said. It always felt a little strange to have everyone make a fuss when he came back, but he wouldn't go so far as to discourage it.

There was a nook on one side of the wall that Janken used when he stayed here. He pushed his backpack into it, then sat on the ledge. He said, "I've been doing well on the surface. I've got a job that's tricky, but I really enjoy it, and it's among people I like. When I'm done with school, I'll probably spend most of my time there."

_"Most_ of your time? Wow," Wembley said.

"Yeah. Up there people have to work like Doozers because the surface world is so much more complicated. It sounds terrible, and a lot of people say it is, but I don't mind it. The people I work with, they're more like us than you'd think. Before I met them I often got lonely."

"I don't know how you can do it, working all day and no Fraggles to mess around with," Wembley said.

"Yeah." That was the worst thing about leaving Fraggle Rock: finding yourself in a strange world with no friends to help you through. Even after he began to understand how the surface world worked and got over his fear of the inhabitants, he never stopped longing for the companionship of the Fraggles he'd known and loved all his life. "Never mind that. I'm fitting in, or at least getting to understand some of the stranger customs up there. Like money."

Gobo said, "The metal markers that Uncle Traveling Matt has brought back? I thought the Silly Creatures passed them around like smoothies and rollies."

Janken shook his head, then winced; the ache was not letting up. "It's like... well, points in a game, except you need those points to live with. You get them by working, and you exchange them for food, clothes, a home—everything. If you don't have those points, you can't get what you need."

Disturbed, Wembley asked, "You have to swap things just to _live?"_

Boober came in carrying a moss pack. He gave it to Janken, who put it on his head. "Thanks. Yeah, I think the reason they need those markers is because there are so many people up there that they can't keep track of themselves. What's really weird is that it's supposed to be a good thing _not_ to use them, but to keep them to yourself instead."

Gobo said, "That doesn't make any sense. If you don't use them, what good are they to you? That's like picking radishes and then not eating them."

Boober remarked, "Maybe they save them so they can use them later."

Gobo and Wembley exchanged glances. They both remembered the time Boober had been hoarding things in a cave he had dug out just for the purpose. It had been foolish and senseless, and had nearly ended in tragedy when the cave collapsed, trapping Boober within. It was a tale they kept to themselves to spare Boober humiliation.

Unaware, Janken said, "That's what they say, but some of them save much more than they could ever need, and they call that being rich and are proud of it. They even have buildings called banks where they store their money. I don't know—I understand how it works until it gets complicated, but I can't explain why they do things the way they do."

Wembley leaned back on his arms and said, "Can you imagine if we used Fraggle pebbles that way? We'd have to carry around bags of rocks!" He laughed.

Mokey and Red had been listening from one the cave's 'windows.' Now they entered. Red said, "And we'd have caves stuffed full of rollies and smoothies. Hey, Mokey, trade you a rollie for a radish?"

"What color?"

"The rollie or the radish?"

Janken watched, amused, as his parents spun the concept of using stones as money into an increasingly elaborate and ridiculous fantasy. They clearly found the idea as silly as he did. But soon, lulled by the pleasant, comforting sounds and smells of home, Janken began to fade, and dropped off to sleep.


	2. The Plague Fraggles

**Trials and Tintinnabulations**  
by Kim McFarland

**

* * *

**

**Part 2. The Plague Fraggles**

The next morning, when Janken awakened he wished he hadn't. His headache had intensified, and he felt weary and sore to the bone. He opened his eyes, then closed them again, wishing the world to go away and leave him alone.

His condition was soon noticed. When he awakened again he saw Boober standing over him. Grimly the small Fraggle said, "You're sick, aren't you."

"Yeah," Janken said.

"It figures. Outer Space is full of germs and pestilence. Does your fur ache?"

"I feel cold. And my baloobius is the only thing that _doesn't_ ache."

Boober glanced at Janken's tail, which was hanging limply over the edge of the sleeping nook. Boober knew that he had been exposed to whatever Janken had when he hugged him yesterday. There was no point in keeping his distance now; it was only a matter of time before he got it too. He touched Janken's cheek. "You're feverish. Do you still have a headache?"

"Yeah."

"You have the flu. It's a good thing you came home. Who knows what would have happened if you had gotten sick in Outer Space," he said. "You need to be someplace warm. Can you walk?"

"I'll try," Janken said. All he wanted to do is lie still, but he forced himself to sit up and swing his legs over the edge of the bed, in the process pinching his tail. He winced.

Sensing the inevitable, Boober nerved himself, then said, "Come on," offering him a hand. Janken got to his feet. Boober put his arm around Janken's waist and said, "Lean on me." Janken was more than a head taller than Boober; he put an arm around Boober's shoulders.

Wembley, who had been watching from the doorway, darted to Janken's other side. Boober said, "Wembley!"

"Right here! Where are we taking him?"

Boober was dismayed, but not surprised. Of course Wembley did not have the sense to stay back, out of the range of the germs. Well, it was too late now. "To my room. It's next to the kitchen, and that's the warmest place in the Rock."

"Right!"

The two walked Janken to Boober's room by a back tunnel, as they didn't want to bring him through the Great Hall. The fewer Fraggles exposed to this, the better. They installed Janken in Boober's bed, then Boober shooed Wembley out.

As Boober fussed about in the kitchen Janken said, "I hope I don't miss the Festival of the Bells."

"Maybe you'll be better by then," Boober answered. And by then Boober expected to be sick. But what else could he do? Because of his horror of germs Boober had learned every remedy and treatment known to Fragglekind—and because of that, everyone who fell ill came straight to him, thus exposing him to every disease that afflicted the Rock.

Janken suddenly remembered that he didn't have a bell to ring. He had given his to Scooter. He wouldn't tell Boober that, though; Boober would say that giving his bell away was bad luck. Anyway, there were always plenty of bells around.

Boober brought Janken some tea. Janken took a small sip. It had drooptree bark, moonrose, and some other icky-tasting ingredients, but the flavor was mitigated by mint and beet sugar. On the average it was bearable. Janken drank it slowly. Boober might be superstitious, but his treatments _worked_. And yet Boober considered laundry to be his true vocation and medicine a hobby. Despite his discomfort, Janken smiled into the teacup.

* * *

Later that day, Fraggles were gathered in the Great Hall. They were there partially because they were keyed up about the coming Festival of the bells, and partially because the tunnels were cold, and the body heat of many active Fraggles kept the Great Hall a little warmer. Many of the Fraggles, including Red, Gobo, and Wembley, were playing on the iced-over pool, wearing special shoes with slick soles so they could skid around. The object of the game was not very clear, but they enjoyed themselves in between collisions.

Mokey sat with her and Red's daughters, one on each leg, holding them close to keep them warm. "You can feel Fraggle Rock slowing down. That's what causes this cold, and that's why we have the Festival of the Bells," she said in her gentle, lilting voice. "When we ring our bells we reawaken the Great Bell at the center of the Rock, and it makes the Rock move once more."

"Can we ring the bells _now_ and make it warm?" Poncle wanted to know.

Mokey laughed softly. "If that was all it took, we'd ring bells every day. It's like a great heart that beats once a year. With our bells we keep it from stopping."

Poncle put a mitten on her chest, feeling her own heartbeat, and asked, "Is the Great Bell the heart of Fraggle Rock?"

"Yes, it is, in a way. Without us to remind it to move, Fraggle Rock would stop and freeze over. And without Fraggle Rock, we would have no home. We depend on each other. Just as the Ditzies depend on us to feed them with our songs, and we depend on them for light to keep us from going to sleep and never waking up," Mokey told them.

Sage added, "And the Doozers too. They have to build, and we make space for them by eating their buildings."

"Yes, that's it! We all need each other. We are all joined in a great song, and every part, no matter how small or short, is important."

Sage asked, "Can I be in the Weebabeast this time?"

"I think so," Mokey said.

"Yay!" she exclaimed, and leapt off Mokey's leg. While she rushed to the pond, Poncle took the opportunity to claim Mokey's lap.

Boober entered the Great Hall carrying a wicker tray. "Who wants a snack?"

The Fraggles in the pileup on the ice extricated themselves and grabbed some of Boober's potato cookies. Red took a bite, then said, "Mmm, this tastes different!"

"I used cinnamon," Boober said, pleased.

"Very nice," Mokey said.

"Mokey said I could be in the Weebabeast this year!" Sage told Boober excitedly.

"Good for you," Boober replied.

Red asked, "Say, where's Janken?"

Wembley answered, "He's sick. We put him in Boober's place."

Mokey said, "Oh, poor Janken. I'll go keep him company."

"Me too," Wembley said.

"No," Boober said quickly. "He has a flu from Outer Space. It must be horribly contagious."

"Wow, I guess it is," Wembley said.

"How are you going to keep from catching it?" Red wanted to know.

"I can't," Boober answered with a gloomy sigh. "Sage can take my place in the Weebabeast."

"It might just be a bad cold," Gobo told Boober. "He may be fine by festival time."

"Yeah, it's probably nothing," Wembley agreed, nibbling his cookie.

"You can hope for the best. I'm going to prepare for the worst," Boober told them, and went off to cut some icicles for cooking water.

* * *

Later that day, after the group—minus Boober—had practiced the Weebabeast dance, Wembley returned to Boober's home. "Hi."

Boober glanced over. "Hi. Janken isn't any better. You'd better not come in."

"Actually, I have a bad headache too," Wembley said unhappily.

Boober came over and touched Wembley's cheek. Then he said, "You'd better come in."

"And I'm kinda tired." Normally Wembley had the abundant energy that nearly all Fraggles enjoyed; anything less than a marathon shouldn't have fazed him for more than a minute.

"Yep. You caught it already. It's that contagious," Boober told him. "I'm going to quarantine you both."

"Where?"

Boober hesitated, then said, "Come with me."

* * *

Boober led Wembley to a narrow passage behind his cave. The limestone walls were chipped here; someone had widened them to allow a Fraggle to slip in without difficulty. They emerged into a large, open room with shelflike flowstone formations around the walls and a chimney leading into the darkness above. The air was fresh, and there was a light breeze coming downward.

The shelves were covered with things. Cloth, baskets, a bale of fluffy stuff. Bottles filled with powders of various colors and textures. A rack made of sticks bound together by twine and hung with various leaves and things leaned against one wall. Buttons threaded on strings dangled from one rock spar.

Wembley was staring at a blue cloth close to the door. On it were several pebbles, including the snowflake obsidian that Janken had given him. Looking up, he said, "Boober?"

Boober had been hoping against hope that Wembley wouldn't say anything. Quickly he turned and said, "This isn't what it looks like. I'm not hoarding these things!"

"Then why...?" Wembley asked softly, his voice tinted with disappointment.

"I _need_ a hidey-hole to go to when I need some peace and quiet. Sure, there's some stuff in here too, but I'm not _keeping_ it all."

"I want to believe you, Boober..." Wembley pleaded with his eyes for an explanation he could understand.

"Well, see, I save extra buttons, and ones that come off old clothes, or that I find, or...whatever. That way, if someone loses a button, I can sew another on."

Wembley nodded without speaking. He noticed some buttons just like the ones on his banana tree shirt. He wasn't missing any—both his shirts had their two buttons each—so they must have come from somewhere else. He glanced down, and saw that one of the buttons on his shirt looked newer than the other.

Boober continued, "Here, torn clothes and blankets and things. I put them aside so I can mend them or..." He shrugged, embarrassed.

Wembley took pity on him. "Or something."

"Yes! Exactly. Now help me find some blankets."

The two went through the cloth. They found a few torn blankets. They were clean, at least; of course Boober had washed them. Boober was meticulous when it came to matters of laundry. He laid other items of clothing on a shelf, layering them to make comfortable beds.

After they had worked silently together for several minutes, Boober said, "I also use this place for drying leaves and roots and things for my home remedies. See, I hang them from that rack. The ones that are done are in those bottles."

"Boober, it's okay," Wembley said softly.

Boober looked at Wembley for a moment, then said, "I need some wood and a fire bowl. Be right back."

Boober left. Wembley looked around. Really, it wasn't as bad as before. He was sure that Boober really believed he was saving these things for when they would be needed. But they still made him uncomfortable. What use could anyone possibly find for _laundry lint?_

When Boober came back he was rolling, with some effort, a steep-sided clay bowl as wide as he was tall. He settled it on the floor in the center of the room, then left. A minute later he came back with a flat piece of slate as big as the bowl. Wembley recognized these as cooking tools. Boober sometimes built a fire in the bowl and either placed smaller clay bowls inside to cook or fried things on the slate. Now Boober took a double handful of the lint and dropped it in the bowl; Wembley thought he saw a moment's reluctant hesitation. Then Boober piled sticks, then wood on top. Finally he went out and came back with a red hot rock from his oven in a frying pan. He put the rock in the big bowl, touching the lint, and blew on it. After several minutes he had a fire. He placed the slate on top, leaving a gap on one side to allow air to enter so the fire wouldn't suffocate.

Wembley was impressed. "So _that's _how you make a fire!"

"What else do you think I cook with? Come on, I need help with Janken. I gave him something to bring his fever down. He'll be woozy now."

"Sure."

On their way to the entrance they passed the stones on the cloth. Seeing Wembley glance down at them, Boober said, "I only wanted to look at them a little while before passing them on."

"I won't tell anyone. I promise." There were only a few of them, after all.

They went to get Janken. He managed to wake up, and he tried to stand, but he couldn't do it without one on each side to steady him. They walked him to the storeroom and put him in an improvised bed. When Boober was satisfied there was nothing else he could do he left to make some turnip stew; the best defense against sickness was to keep everyone's strength up. Janken looked blearily at Wembley and asked, "What Gorg stepped on me?"

"You'll be all right," Wembley said comfortingly.

"Remember when I had the pebble pox, you held me and sang silly songs. It made it less crummy." He smiled tiredly and closed his eyes again.

Wembley looked at his son. Janken was a full-grown Fraggle now, but at that moment Wembley saw the child he used to be. He sat up beside Janken and lifted his head into his lap. Janken's eyes fluttered open, and he looked up. Wembley began singing softly, "I'm always here, I'm never there, I'm never ever anywhere, excepting here, 'cause here is where I'm in..."

Janken closed his eyes and listened to Wembley's song. When Wembley finished he looked down at Janken. His breathing was slow; he had fallen asleep. Wembley leaned back against the rock wall and closed his eyes, hoping that sleep would give him relief from the ache in his head.

* * *

Some time later Wembley was awakened by the sound of rock scraping against clay. Boober had taken the lid off the fire bowl and was adding more wood. He replaced it, then set a large teapot on top to heat. Glancing around, Wembley realized that Boober had moved out some of the other stuff in the room, and there were another two Fraggles in improvised beds. When he caught Boober's eye Boober paused, then shook his head and walked out again without speaking.

* * *

Over the next few days more Fraggles fell ill and were quarantined in Boober's hidey-hole. He didn't have to move everything out, though. He was using the lint as tinder, and some clothing that he now admitted was beyond repair had gone the same way. Other items of clothing had been quickly and rudely stitched together to make patchwork blankets and bedding. It looked as if people were sleeping in piles of laundry, he thought humorlessly. Well, he had known those spare clothes would come in handy sooner or later.

Mokey, Red, Gobo, Poncle, and Sage had joined Wembley and Janken. The last two had passed the stage of complaining about their sickness and were lying there apathetically, appearing to be asleep with their eyes half open. That frightened Boober. He hated to see them like this, still and quiet and miserable. If he could have caught this disease instead of them he would have. Being sick was terrible, but seeing those you loved suffer was much worse.

He touched their cheeks; they were all hot with fever. He did not shy away from them because he could not possibly be exposed to any more germs than he already had. It was only a matter of time before he came down with it himself. In the meantime, at least some of the Fraggles who were not yet too sick were helping him care for the others. Hopefully they would be able to take over when he succumbed.

* * *

Soon the Great Hall was chill and empty. There were no Fraggles running around and expending energy to warm it, so icicles lengthened and frost thickened. The majority of the Fraggles had caught the flu and were now in the improvised sick bay in various states of consciousness. By now the notion of quarantine was useless; everyone had been exposed. But the sickroom was the warmest place in the rock, which was to say it was the one place free from ice. That was little comfort to those suffering from fever and chills.

A few Fraggles continued to resist the flu. Boober was tired and had a headache, but he knew the difference between real illness and simple stress. Somehow Gobo's Uncle Traveling Matt had remained well thus far, and was eager to help out. If only he was as able as he was willing.

The World's Oldest Fraggle sat cross-legged on the floor of the sickroom near his flunky Henchy, who he had brought in the previous day. When Boober came in the elder said, "It's getting colder and colder. The Rock is going to stop if we don't get over this and ring our bells!"

"I know," Boober said. "But hardly anyone can even hold a bell."

"Nevertheless, there are traditions that must be upheld! You remember what happened the last time we dilly-dallied instead of ringing the bells."

"I know. But I have _my_ tradition too, and that's keeping my friends and family alive," Boober snapped.

The old Fraggle stood up stiffly, gripping his staff. For a moment it looked as if he was going to shout at Boober. Then he let out a breath and looked around. "I hope your remedies haven't met their match."

He had voiced Boober's worst fear. Boober said, "Come on, it's safer in the kitchen. Almost as warm too."

"No, I'm staying here."

"At least wear a mask."

"You think a little thing like this could lay me low? Hah!" the old Fraggle said defiantly. "I've lived this long because I'm tough. Besides, I have to keep an eye on this one." He looked down, then gently nudged Henchy's nose with the ball at the top of his staff. Henchy's head turned slightly and his eyelids flickered, but he did not awaken.

Boober walked out. The old Fraggle just might be stronger than the flu. They'd find out soon enough. Boober checked his supply of remedies. All the ones he needed most—moonrose, drooptree bark, moss packs—were running low. When Traveling Matt had seen the problem he had gone off in search of supplies. Boober had to respect his determination, but was less confident in Matt's chances of actually bringing anything useful back. Even if Matt knew anything about the herbs Boober needed, it was cruelly cold in the caves in which they grew.

Boober checked the stew that was simmering in his kitchen. It was nearly done, and smelled good. Fit to be a last meal, Boober thought gloomily.

_Oh, quit crying doom. When this is over you'll laugh about it!_

Boober spun around and exclaimed in outrage, "How can you say—" But there was nobody behind him. He shook his head and muttered, "That's great. Now I'm talking to myself."

* * *

When the stew was done, he and the remaining able-bodied Fraggles fed the others, those who could be fed. Some were starting to hallucinate because of high fevers. Boober quickly made tea with the last of the moonrose and some dried threadroot. The latter would knock a Fraggle completely out. Boober was not comfortable with combating fever with such a powerful sedative, but a room full of delirious Fraggles was more than he and his few aides could cope with.

It was almost time for the Festival of the Bells, Boober thought as he stepped out of the warm sickroom into his chilly home. Cantus would arrive soon and find that there was nobody to lead in song.

_Cantus! _When he came here, he and his minstrels would catch this disease. And because they traveled, they could spread it to other Fraggle colonies! Boober could not let such a calamity happen. He thought for a moment, then ran into the Great Hall. There were paintings hung on the walls depicting the spring that they were looking forward to. Their backs were blank. Boober gathered them, then went to Mokey and Red's room and found Mokey's paint jars. The paint inside was frozen. He hurried back to his kitchen and warmed it, then painted warnings on the backs. He rushed out again—it was getting harder and harder to face the bone-chilling cold—and posted the signs at every entrance to the Great Hall.

There, he thought as he returned to his room. He had done everything he could. Including possibly dooming everyone in Fraggle Rock to avoid spreading the disease. No, he knew that there was nothing Cantus could do to help them. This flu wouldn't be so terrible if it hadn't struck right now, when the cold weakened them and the Rock was about to stop. Why couldn't this have happened in the summer, if it had to happen?

Boober collapsed in his bed. There was nothing more he could do. He could only sleep now and hope he wouldn't join the ranks of the sick when he woke. If he did, there would be nobody who knew how to care for the ill, and they would die when the Rock froze over. He shivered and drew the covers tightly around himself.

* * *

Boober was trapped and helpless. A rockslide had sealed him into a small cave, and the ceiling was threatening to collapse. He tried to push through the rubble blocking the cave mouth, but that made the rocks above him shift threateningly. He bit back a claustrophobic whimper; even that might bring the rocks down on him. All he could do was cower and hope that the next moment wouldn't be his last.

Then he heard a sound on the other side of the rockslide. Someone was digging down to rescue him! "I'm in here," he whispered as loudly as he dared.

"I know. I _always_ know where to find you," a cheerful voice replied. More rocks shifted.

"No!" Boober exclaimed.

"Yes!" A stone was pulled away, letting light into the unstable chamber. A hand reached in. "C'mon, get outta there!"

Boober swatted the hand away and cried, "No! Leave me alone!" The rocks came crushing down.

* * *

Boober awakened to the sound of his own voice. He gasped, his hand on his chest, feeling his heart racing. "No!" he said to himself. "Not _now!"_

* * *

Traveling Matt was hurriedly returning with the items he had found. He had braved some cold passages indeed, but had little to show for it. Shriveled but edible mushrooms, moss that had been hidden under ice and frost, moonrose twigs—the flowers were long gone—and a few other remnants.

Now the caverns looked unfamiliar, and he became confused. It was some minutes before he realized that the caves were darker than he had ever seen them, but they were still the ones he knew. Relieved, he ran through the icy, silent Great Hall, only tripping twice over obstacles he could not see in the gloom. Before he ducked into Boober's room he looked around, wondering what had happened to the light.


	3. When Boober Howls

**Trials and Tintinnabulations**  
by Kim McFarland

I've grown a little leaner  
Grown a little colder  
Grown a little sadder  
Grown a little older  
And I need a little angel  
Sitting on my shoulder  
- _We Need a Little Christmas_ from _Mame_

* * *

**Part 3. When Boober Howls**

Boober forced himself out of his bed. It was the day of the solstice, and the sickroom was full. He had moved everything else out to make room for Fraggles. They were running low on firewood, despite Gobo's Uncle Matt's frequent trips to bring back whatever supplies he could—how he could volunteer to face the cold over and over was beyond Boober's comprehension—so Boober burned whatever could be spared.

The stew he had set to simmer before he went to bed was ready. It was made up of anything he could find, which was not much, as all the Fraggles who normally brought food in during the winter were in no condition to forage. The stew was thin, but at least it was flavorful, thanks to the spices he had used, and full of herbal nutrients.

He went into the sickroom. Despite the fire bowl and the warmth of dozens of feverish Fraggles, it was chill in here too. Those who had been assisting him had fallen asleep on the ground around the fire bowl. They were as weary as he was. He went around and returned the blankets to those who had thrown them off. When he came to his own family, he just stopped and looked at them. Mokey and Red, bracketing Poncle and Sage. Gobo. Wembley. Janken. All lay still but for their slow breathing.

"Everything's slowing down," Boober murmured to himself.

"It's time to ring the bells," said The World's Oldest Fraggle as he sat creakily up.

"Nobody's in any condition to ring bells," Boober said.

"You are. I am." He gestured to the others around the fire bowl. "We'll wake them and they will!"

"Five Fraggles. The Great Bell will never hear us."

He was surprised to feel a sharp smack on the side of his head, just hard enough to sting for a moment. The World's Oldest Fraggle had bopped him with his staff! The elder said, "Listen to me, sonny! As long as we're alive we won't give up! We've got our bells. It's time to use them!"

There were bells by most of the Fraggles in the sickroom, a detail that Boober hadn't thought much about. When they had come in they had brought their bells, expecting to ring them from their beds. Boober picked up one of the bells and rang it suddenly and hard. The silvery ringing pierced the quiet of the sickroom, startling the Fraggles around the fire bowl awake. The World's Oldest Fraggle picked up a bell and rang it too, and so did the others.

Boober glanced around. A few of the sick Fraggles had awakened. He put bells in their hands. They shook the bells weakly. One slipped out of a hand and clanked on the stone floor. Boober laughed, then slapped a hand over his mouth. _No, don't you dare! _he thought.

The few who were alert were staring at him. He said, "I've made some stew. See if you can get anyone to eat it." He picked up another bell, then turned and left.

He walked into the Great Hall. It was cold and dark; only the frost and ice reflecting what little light the Ditsies put out made the cave recognizable. Shivering inside his clothing, he rang both of the bells. At first he rang them softly, gently, as they would during the festival celebration. Then he swung them at arm's length and clanged them as hard as he could. When he stopped, the echoes were swallowed by the cold, bleak stone, leaving him alone in the silence.

"I failed," he whispered.

* * *

Boober dragged himself back to his room. The pot was gone from the stove, he noticed. Not that it mattered now. He would care for his friends until the icy end came. That was all he could do, ease their final hours. When there was nothing else he could do, he would simply walk into the Great Hall and wait for the cold to take him too. He had heard that freezing was a merciful death; it was like falling asleep. To go to sleep and not wake up. That was a comforting thought.

_All right, I've had enough of this gloom and doom! Have you forgotten what day it is? Come on, let's celebrate!_

In a harsh whisper Boober said, "Celebrate? How can you talk about celebrating while everyone else is dying?"

_Oh, lighten up. They won't die. They never did before!_

_"This_ hasn't ever happened before!"

_If you don't celebrate the Festival of the Bells, __**I will!**_

"No, you won't! All you know is how to play around and get me into trouble! This time it's not just me! You'll get everybody killed!"

_A moment ago they were dying. Now they've recovered? Excellent job, Doctor Boober!_

"Go away, you—you **disease!"** Boober snapped out the most vicious insult he knew.

_I'm not a disease. Don't you remember? I'm you!_

"You're worse than a disease. If you were a disease I could look forward to getting better and then never suffering from you again! Why don't you leave me alone?"

_Because __**you've**_ _given up!_

Sidebottom, Boober's alter ego, seized control. The Fraggles who had seen Boober muttering to himself now stared as he ran back into the sickroom and grabbed all the unused bells. He tied them to his arms, legs, and tail so that every move he made sounded like a wind chime in a storm. Holding the last two bells in his hands, he ran out into the Great Hall, ringing the bells as hard as he could and laughing maniacally.

* * *

Sidebottom scampered through the Great Hall, then into the frigid tunnels beyond. He saw a white, furry thing clinging to a stalactite. He thrust a bell into its forepaw and said, "Happy Festival of the Bells!"

Nonplussed, the creature looked at the bell. "What's this for?"

"It's for ringing! Like this!" Sidebottom rang his hard, then ran off. The creature gave it an experimental shake, then, finding it liked the tinkling sound, continued ringing it.

* * *

Sidebottom yelled and rang his way through a tunnel. The Great Bell was in here somewhere, and when he found it he'd ring it himself! Along the way he gave bells to any creature he met that could hold one.

He skidded to a stop when he saw a small tunnel with a flat floor: a Doozer passage. Whatever was at the other end of the tunnel was more brightly lit than the dim caves. He crawled in, the bells scraping on the rock walls as he squirmed through the tight passage. When he emerged into an open space he found himself in the presence of dozens of astonished Doozers wearing tiny parkas. He jumped off the ramp—the Doozer stick bridge wouldn't hold his weight—and began ringing two bells. He cried, "Happy Festival of the Bells!"

The Doozers milled around, shocked by the invasion of the Doozer Dome. Sidebottom spied a crane, and began hanging bells from it. Soon one Doozer, a redheaded female, shouted up, "Hey! What are you doing?"

"You're invited to the Festival of the Bells! And since you aren't in the Great Hall, I'm bringing it to you! C'mon, live a little! Ring the bells!"

The others watched, dumbfounded, as the Fraggle scrambled back out. The jangling sound receded in the distance. Then one of the Doozers asked, "What was that all about, Cotterpin?"

"He wanted us to share in their party, the one they have every winter."

"Those Fraggles are crazy."

The other Doozers muttered agreement. Cotterpin looked at the bells speculatively. Maybe Fraggles were crazy by Doozer standards, but they were all right by their own. And... why not? It might be fun. She climbed into the crane's control seat and began working the controls. Soon the crane was swinging back and forth, causing the bells to chime over the heads of the other Doozers.

* * *

Sidebottom scampered through tunnels, heading upward. The Doozers had given him an idea. Soon his head popped out above the ground's surface. The land here was covered with a thin layer of snow. The giant stone walls were dusted with flakes. The garden was empty, the plants having been harvested long ago. It was a bleak sight for a hungry Fraggle.

Sidebottom ran down the side of the rock and through the snow, clanging his bells and shouting at the top of his lungs, "Hey! Gorgs! Get out here, you mountains of hair! C'mon! All-e all-e all's-in-free!"

Junior Gorg looked out the door. Sidebottom stood out against the snow. Junior came out and lowered himself to the ground; he'd learned that it was bad manners to pick Fraggles up without permission. "What's up, little Fwaggle?"

"Haven't you heard? It's the Fraggles' Festival of the Bells!"

"A festival? Is that like a party?" Junior asked, interested.

"Exactly! It's a party for all the Fraggles to celebrate not being dead! And since you can't come down there, I'm bringing it to you!"

"Oh, boy, I like parties! What do I do?"

"I'm glad you asked. You just take a bell and ring it for all you're worth!" Sidebottom held out a bell.

The Gorg took it carefully between his thumb and forefinger. He tried to ring it, but it was too small for him to hold without muffling it with his fingers. "Aw, I can't wing this teeny-weeny one. But I got an idea! Wait wight here, little Fwaggle!" Junior dashed into the castle. Soon he appeared in the belfry. He pulled a rope, and the bell tolled hugely.

Sidebottom laughed and cheered. On the other side of the part of Fraggle Rock that rose into the Gorgs' garden, the Trash Heap stirred. "What's all this noise?" she asked.

Philo and Gunge, her two rodentlike friends, were perched on top of the rock. Philo turned around and said, "One of the Fraggles told Junior to ring a bell."

Gunge added, "Something about a Fraggle festival."

The tolling of the bell resonated through the garbage. It was a not unpleasant sensation. "Oh, that sounds nice! Why don't we join in too?"

"How we gonna do that, Marjorie?" Gunge asked.

"Let's see..." she searched around herself for a few moments, then raised a broken cage. It was one of the Fraggle traps that Junior had thrown away long ago, after he realized that the Fraggles were people, not vermin. The bells that had served as alarms were still attached. The Trash Heap shook them, producing a cheerful jingling.

* * *

The Fraggles in the sickroom heard the low tolling of the bell thrumming through the rock. The World's Oldest Fraggle said, "Is that...?" It didn't sound like the Great Bell had in the past, but what else could it be? Hopefully he rang his bell again. The others who were conscious began ringing their bells, some strongly, others barely a faint cling, but all with the same amount of hope.

* * *

Scooter was sitting in his room in the boarding house. He was trying not to miss Janken, and not succeeding. The bell he had given him was on the nightstand. It was time, he realized. He picked it up and rang it. The bell's peal was a bright, cheery sound.

* * *

Sprocket's head was jammed into the hole in the wall. He barked intermittently, his tail whipping from side to side. Doc, his human, asked, "What's up, boy? Is somebody coming to visit?"

Sprocket looked up at Doc, then mimed shaking something vigorously with one hand. "What's that? They're rolling dice?"

Sprocket shook his head vigorously. He shook his hand and tried to imitate the sound of the bells, but it came out as barks. "You want to play tug-of-war?"

Exasperated, Sprocket dashed over to the Christmas tree. He found a reindeer ornament hung with jingle bells and shook it, then barked emphatically. Doc asked, "They're ringing bells?" Sprocket nodded and barked again. "Why didn't you say so? I guess everyone's celebrating." He picked another reindeer off the tree and shook it.

* * *

The Doozers felt the rock vibrate gently beneath their feet. Strangely enough, it was not a malevolent sensation, like a tremor that might herald a deadly cave-in. Rather, it was like the quiet beating of a heart. Then another sound joined it. Cotterpin paused in ringing the bells and listened. It sounded like reed instruments, and singing.

* * *

Sidebottom had turned to run back underground when Boober stopped him. "Wait, get some of those leaves!"

"What leaves?" Sidebottom asked, looking around.

"There, on that bush! They'll help bring down fever. I need them now that I'm out of moonrose!"

Sidebottom picked the dry leaves and sniffed them. The smell was familiar. Then, under the bush, he noticed a few weedy plants that the Gorgs had not seen. One was threeseed. Its seeds were useful, nourishing during a hard winter. He gathered as many of these as he could find, bundled them together in a sack made of a wide leaf tied into a cone, then set off back into Fraggle Rock.

* * *

He rushed through the Rock. He only had one bell left, and it was tied to his tail; his hands were full. It was easier to navigate the tunnels on the return; they were better lit now. He did not notice the singing that drifted faintly through the caves.

After what felt like an eternity he was back in his home, stamping and shivering from the cold. He put down his bag of seeds and leaves, and only then did he notice the sound of bells coming from the storage room. He went in. The World's Oldest Fraggle, Traveling Matt, and the others who had managed to keep their health were ringing their bells. Janken and Wembley, the two who had fallen ill first, were ringing theirs as well. Their fur was damp with sweat; their fevers had broken. The World's Oldest Fraggle told him, "I can feel it. The Rock is moving again."

He stood still, and, yes, he thought he could feel it beneath his feet, just a hint of vibration. The Gorgs' bell? Somehow he didn't think it would penetrate this far. He murmured, "It's moving. It's moving..."

"Yeah," Wembley said quietly. He looked tired and weak, but he was smiling.

The small Fraggle dropped his bell and stood silently for a moment, then looked at Wembley and exclaimed, "Hi, Wem! Long time no see!" Then he bounded out of the room.

Wembley's eyes widened in surprise and recognition.

* * *

The small Fraggle went into the kitchen and put some icicles in a pot to melt. While waiting he hulled the threeseeds, then minced them up fine. The gruel they made wouldn't be up to his usual standards—though he could spice it to give it a pleasant flavor, there was nothing he could do about the mouthfeel—but it would keep body and soul together. As he worked he belted out,

"There's a rhythm, there's a rising,  
There's a dream of green that needs to wake!  
A password and a promise  
That the earth will never ever break!  
It's coming, feel it humming,  
In the hearts we share with rock and sky,  
So raise your voices _high!"_

* * *

By the time he finished the gruel, and added some spices to make the bland fare more palatable, he had calmed down. He carried the pot into the sickroom and set it on the hot slate atop the fire bowl, then began ladling out servings for any Fraggle well enough to eat.

When Wembley accepted a bowl he leaned forward and whispered, "Is that you, Sidebottom?"

He paused, surprised. Then he said, "He's still watching... but he let me go."

"That was him ringing the bells, wasn't it?"

"Yeah."

Wembley smiled. "Tell him thanks."

* * *

Boober finished his task in thoughtful silence. Then he went back and sat on his bed. He closed his eyes, and was back in the cave of his mind. Now it was larger, with air flowing free, rather than a tiny, unstable pocket under a rockslide. Sidebottom was there with him. Boober began, "About what I said... about you being worse than a disease..."

"I frighten you," Sidebottom stated simply.

"Yeah."

"I'm the fun side of you, which you keep on the bottom. I'm the part that takes joy in laughter and jokes. I'm the part that has fun testing other Fraggles' baloobiuses!" He leaned close, wearing a sly grin. "You say I'm the part that never knows when to stop. Well, you're right there." He poked Boober in the chest with an accusing finger. "You were giving up. You needed me. So out I came!"

"You're right," Boober admitted. "I haven't seen you for so long."

"I've been here all this time. Within you." Sidebottom held up one hand. Two fingers were crossed.

"But... you went back today. You've never gone back by yourself before."

Sidebottom said softly, "I didn't go away. You took me back. You gave me something besides the unwanted parts of yourself when we gathered the leaves and seeds, then cooked that mess."

"Oh..."

"We're one, Boober. Let's stay together, all right?" Sidebottom offered his hand. Boober took it.

And there was one.

* * *

Days later, enough Fraggles had recovered to send out a team to forage. When they set foot in the Great Hall they found piles of Doozer sticks, with more being brought it by the Doozers. Cotterpin, the de facto ambassador to the Fraggles, told Wembley, "Some strange Fraggle came when he heard the bells. He and his musicians stood around and sang, and before we knew it we were singing too. I've never seen anything like it."

"That must have been Cantus the minstrel," Wembley said.

"After that he told us that you needed these. It's too cold for us to build now because the water that powers our equipment is frozen. But we had these in storage, left over from autumn."

She could barely hear Wembley's reply over the sounds of ravenous Fraggles crunching into Doozer sticks. Wembley paused long enough to say, "You Doozers are lifesavers! Mmm, these are the best tasting Doozer sticks I've ever eaten!"

The Doozers all stopped in mid-step, taken aback. Cotterpin piped up, "Hey! What's that supposed to mean? They taste much better after we've built with them!"

"Oh, sorry, sorry! I mean, these are _really_ delicious. Almost as good as your buildings! But not quite."

"That's better," she said, satisfied, and drove off to get another load.

* * *

Once they had taken the edge off their own hunger, half of the Fraggles began carrying the sticks back to the sickroom to feed those not well enough to leave their beds. Boober, Janken, and Wembley, the latter two of whom had recovered rapidly after getting over their fevers, continued through the tunnels and up to the Gorgs' Garden. It was still snowy.

Junior Gorg had been keeping watch for the Fraggles since he had rung the bell. Now, seeing them in the garden, he bounded out. "Hello, little Fwaggles! How was your bell-winging party?"

All the Fraggles startled. Then they looked at Boober. Boober glanced around, embarrassed, then said, "It was good. We could hear your bell all the way down in our caves. We couldn't have had it without you."

"Oh, goody!" The Gorg said, pleased. Then he said, "Nothing gwows in the garden during the winter. Are you hungwy?"

Boober replied, "Yes. Very... hungwy."

"Just a minute. Don't go anywhere." Junior tromped bouncily off around the side of the castle, then returned with a large bunch of radishes. "We keep the harvest in the storehouse duwing the winter. I'll make a little hole in the door so you can get what you need, okay?"

The startled Fraggles all thanked him at once. A little embarrassed, Junior said, "Aw, it's nothing. You little Fwaggles don't eat much."

Janken said, "I've brought something for you," and held up some paper envelopes.

Junior took them. They were smaller than his fingertips, and he could just barely make out the tiny images on them. "What are they?"

"More seeds from outer space. A bunch of different things—snow peas, strawberries, melons, and daikons."

Junior got up, excited. "Oh, goody! I'll save them until spwing, and we can plant 'em together!" Janken had been bringing new seeds to the Gorgs for several years now. Some wouldn't grow, but others did, and in the Gorgs' garden anything that lived grew to enormous size. The daikons had been an especial hit; even the smallest of those radishes was twice the length of a Fraggle. The Fraggles helped the Gorgs plant the seeds, because in Gorg hands the seeds were the size of sand grains. In return, the Fraggles were learning about how to coax food out of the ground, a process that some Fraggles, including Mokey, found fascinating.

* * *

On the way back, Wembley said quietly to Boober, "When everyone's better again I'll help you move your things back into that room."

"Thanks, but there's no need," Boober replied. "I burned most of them."

"You _burned...?"_

Boober shrugged. "We were low on peat and wood and everything, and I didn't really _need_ that stuff anyway."

"Well, at least you still got those blankets you sewed out of old clothes."

"I'll burn those too." Boober shook his head, looking at the ground.

"You sure?"

"Yeah. I don't need them either."

"Well... I thought they were kind of neat. Mine was a patchwork of socks, and I kept finding patterns in them when I was sick. It kept my mind off the poison cacklers."

Boober looked at Wembley. The green Fraggle was perfectly earnest. Boober said, "You can have it, then."

"Thanks! I bet other people will want them too. But, well, they'll need washing first."

"Washing?"

"Yeah. All those blankets. That's gonna be one huge load of laundry."

"The biggest load of laundry I've ever done," Boober said, imagining it. Hour upon hour, day after day of scrubbing and rinsing and wringing, losing himself in the suds. Pleasant evenings spent watching the cloth change colors as it dried on the line. Dreamily he said, "It sounds heavenly."

"I'll help you," Wembley offered, patting Boober on the back.

"That sounds even better."

Janken said, "I'll help too. I feel kind of bad. I'm the one who brought this flu in."

Boober said, "If there's one thing I've learned, it's that disease is inevitable. If you hadn't gotten us sick, someone else would have."

Wembley said. "Yeah! Wait a minute—I mean, Boober means it's not your fault. It's not like you planned to get sick, after all. Hey, Boober, why didn't _you _catch it?"

Boober said, "I've caught everything at least once. I must not have room for any more diseases." Then he groaned and fell forward onto the ground.

Wembley exclaimed, "Boober!"

Janken knelt. "What happened?" he said, alarmed.

Boober looked up at them. "Gotcha."

Wembley rolled his eyes as Boober got to his feet. "Very funny, Sidebottom."

"I'm not Sidebottom!" Then he reconsidered. "Well... he's me, so I guess I'm him. Funny, it doesn't sound as bad as it used to."

"Whoever you are, we love you," Wembley said, putting an arm around Boober.

"What he said." Janken put his arm around Boober's shoulders.

"Aw..." Boober murmured, and that was all. Nothing else needed to be said.

* * *

The three returned to Boober's home together, not talking and not needing to. They passed by one of the warning signs Boober had posted at the mouth of a tunnel leading into the back of the Great Hall. Below the sign, scratched into the frost, were the words "Listen with your eyes, see with your ears, feel with your heart. Even when we do not see each other, we are all joined in song."


	4. Outtakes & Notes

**Trials and Tintinnabulations**  
by Kim McFarland

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**Extra Feature: Outtakes **

[Gobo, Janken, Sage, Poncle, and Sprocket are walking down a cold tunnel.]

Poncle: Did you bring songs from Outer Space?

Janken: I brought lots of songs. Want one?

Sage & Poncle: Yeah!

[Janken kneels, facing away from Sage.]

Janken: Open my backpack and get my sweet potato.

[Sage opens his backpack and takes out a ceramic ocarina. She hands it to Janken. He plays a bit of a tune. Gobo looks surprised, but says nothing. Janken hands the ocarina to Sage, who continues playing the tune as Janken sings. Gobo plays his guitar and Poncle claps for percussion.]

Janken: [singing (briefly) to the tune of "I Got it from Agnes"]

I love my friends, and they love me,  
We're just as close as friends can be.  
And just because we really care  
Whatever we get, we share!

I caught it from Boober, the catcher in the rye,  
Red and Mokey caught it when he baked it in a pie.  
Wembley was the next in line, and Gobo just as soon,  
From a guy who looked like Boober but was laughing like a loon.

I got it from someone, I don't recall just who.  
But never mind, first chance I get I'll pass it on to you.

* * *

[Boober is trapped in a small cave that is threatening to collapse. He cowers, whimpering softly, afraid to make any noise in case the vibration might bring the rocks down on him. Then he hears the rocks moving. Someone is pulling them away.]

Boober: [stage whisper] I'm in here!

[A green hand reaches in, grabs Boober's tail, and pulls it. Boober shrieks as he is dragged backward toward the hole.]

Wembley: [voiceover] Wow, look at this! Your baloobius is in _great_ shape!

* * *

[Sidebottom and Bobber are alone in a cave, facing each other.]

Sidebottom: I'm the fun side of you, which you keep on the bottom. I'm the part that takes joy in laughter and jokes. I'm the part that has fun testing other Fraggles' baloobiuses! Whenever you enjoy yourself, I'm there. When you're cooking and doing laundry. I was even there when Sage...

Boober: When she was born?

Sidebottom: [grinning] Before then.

Boober: Can you _please_ stick to the script?

Sidebottom: [laughs] Help, help, I'm being repressed!

[Boober stalks off the set.]

Boober: I will be in my trailer.

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**Extra Feature: Notes **

This story takes place within a continuity that includes Masks, Runt, and other Muppet and Fraggle Rock stories. If you like you can look them up, either in the _Muppet show_ and _Fraggle Rock_ sections of this archive, or by going to my profile. However, none of those are required reading; this story is meant to stand alone. But if you were curious about the parts at the beginning with the Muppet Theater and Scooter, that's where you can look.

I hope you enjoyed this story, and I welcome comments and criticism!

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Fraggle Rock_ and all characters except Scooter and Janken are copyright © The Jim Henson Company. Scooter is copyright © The Muppets Studio, LLC. _Pass it On _and_ The Promise _are copyright © The Jim Henson Company. _Turn the World Around_ is by Harry Belafonte. _We Need a Little Christmas_ is by Jerry Herman. _I Got it from Agnes_ is by Tom Lehrer. All copyrighted properties are used without permission but with much respect and affection. Janken and the overall story are copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9 at aol dot com). Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.


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